As The Butter Churns

November 29th Forever In Our Hearts

 (Richard and Franklin - real Poofftas)
 

Thanksgiving took on a myriad of permutations this year. At first, Awesomez thought she might come up to join Nick, and Mike and Donna had considered joining us. Of course we expected Mike and then there was rumor The Gibb’s – Diane, John, Lauren and Jordan might attend in addition to all of us – Chris, Lisa, Quinn, Annie, Henry and me. We’d also invited Kim and Vivian to join us, but Kim wasn’t feeling particularly well so they planned to stay home. Nevertheless we were going to need additional tables and a couple of turkeys. Franklin and Richard seemed unaware of the potential hazards in front of them.

 (Silence wisely tucked in the back of the boys)

The best laid plans and all of that. Grandpa Awesomez wanted all the Gomez clan with him at his house in Palm Springs so that took out Nick and Lisa. Mike and Donna suddenly were hosting Mike’s daughter and their three grandchildren. Just days before Thanksgiving, we tragically lost dear quirky “Kim” aka Quentin  – Chris’ uncle, Annie’s brother to an aggressive form of Prostate Cancer.He had been valiantly been battling it for more than a year. His loss left us all grieving and a bit quieter in spirit. Annie went to be with Kim’s wife, Vivian for Thanksgiving in Stanwood. The gregarious Gibb clan did drive up to Lisa's from Eugene for the weekend and Mike drove up from Tacoma with his faithful feline, Monica.

 (Chris & Mike enjoy a glass)

 (Henry and Lauren play a game)

(Quinn quietly on the left with Henry and Lauren)

 (Henry and Lauren goof)
 

 (Diane thickens the gravy)

 (Lisa looking ready for the holiday in her chic scarf - I gave her)

 

 (best friends Jordan and Phoebe tilt a glass)

(Quinn not at all thrilled with my camera)

Brutally aware most Americans consume over 5000 calories in this one meal, I tried to be restrained after all I have to weigh-in eventually. I happily chose the two point glasses of wine over the nine point pumpkin pie. We laughed and chatted about how the Gibb’s were adjusting to Eugene, soccer, schools and Mike ranted about how to revamp the entire educational system, as we know it.

 (yummy food cooking in the oven)
 

 (Mike rants)

 (John and Chris listen to Mike rant educational policies and condemn social promotion)
 

 (and don't use Montessori in the same sentence as Mike's ideas - them's fightin' words_
 

 (Diane's pies and Lisa's tarts)

(Diane prefers Cool Whip™ but she's from the South) 
 

While the pies were being prepped with whipped cream, Diane told of her idyllic new neighborhood and how a group of families share dinner twice a week. Which means Diane eats Tuesdays and Wednesdays at one of her neighbors and cooks for twenty once every two weeks. In fact, their new neighborhood is so neighborly that their neighbors hung their Christmas lights while they were gone.

“I felt terrible, they sent their teenage son over and he was going to do it for free, but it’s not like John is an invalid,” Diane said.

“Oh my gosh! Your neighbors put up your lights? I could see if you were a woman alone,” Lisa was impressed.

As I listened, I turned and whispered to Phoebe who was sitting next to me. “It’s funny, they both assume a man is going to do it. No one but me has ever put up my Christmas lights. Or taken them down. It’s not that hard, I guess it’s tradition.”

            Phoebe smiled wide and nodded to me. She and I had a do-it-yourself kinship. This was the 3-year-old who poured cement with me. The eight-year-old who planted the corn field, the nine-year-old who screwed the fence together. One day, we’d put up her Christmas lights together.

            “Are you sure this place isn’t the next Stepford?” Chris cajoled.

            “It’s OK if it is,” John laughed.

The next day brought winter preparations. Mike and I tried again to get the generator going. I called a repairman who explained my financial options. “If you can get it to me, it would save you a lot of money.”

“I can’t. I just can’t lift it into a truck bed, even with a ramp. I’m simply not strong enough and I just don’t have enough help.” I explained a bit downtrodden.

Mike and I moved on to other matters like insulating the pump house.

“I’d like to say I’m surprised at what a poor job they did on this, but honestly everything they did is just like this.” Mike thundered. We used an entire roll of insulation, changed the light bulb, turned up the heat and screwed the door shut hopping for the best.

Next we began the traditional hanging of the Christmas lights. I wanted to get them up before Awesomez brought Nick back on Monday. So Mike unraveled and held the ladder, I strung and Silence, my faithful turk-a-lurk, supervised us closely. The work I’d put into screwing in hooks along the eaves last year paid off and the lights went up lickety-split. The ones that completely lit anyway. It seems there is some insidious plot devised by the Christmas light industry. They have perfected a solution to the revolutionary parallel circuit. Somehow they have managed to get a foot or two span of lights in the middle of a string to simply go out making it mandatory to purchase another set of lights to replace it. This sent Mike and me to Lowes for more lights. Twice. Thankfully they were on sale.

 (Mike works diligently)

 (Christina actually turned into a storybook goat and started chomping lights)

 (Mike and Christina)
   

 

 (Max returns to the farm)

 (Yours truly- getting the lights up)

 (Silence working hard)

 (Seriously, does anyone think they're going to have a pet turkey? Silence is so curious and interested in everything - a lot like Lloyd)

 (Silence lets me know who's boss)

 (Silence is one big ass bird)

 (Henry and I keep working)

 

 (Luther and Bruno assist)
 

(Emmett escapes)
 

All and all we did pretty well, but more afraid of heights then ever I had a hard time with the upper peaks. At one point Amy tied an extension cord around my waist and anchored me from the attic window while I dangled over the edge. My heart beating so hard I could feel it all over my body. Henry couldn’t watch so he went downstairs and turned on mindless TV. Some help he was.

That night, Mike and I sat up drinking tea and making lists of things we could accomplish in the morning. Mike had an appointment to take Monica to the cat clinic to see Lisa. She’d been acting a little funny lately and he’d been concerned. Lisa told him she could squeeze him around nine, so that was the first thing on the agenda. When he got back we’d continue with our chores, as I was eager to get as much done with my faithful assistant as possible. The adult company was invigorating.

 At about midnight we head upstairs. Mike went to Nick’s room – the room formerly known as “Maryruth’s room” and I went in my bathroom and flipped on the portable heater before changing into my flannels. I thought I heard knocking at my door, but wasn’t sure over the hum of the heater.

“I think she’s dying!” I heard Mike frantically yelling in the hall.

“What?” I screamed as I ran toward the door. When I opened it I could see Mike in his boxers and undershirt hurrying toward his room and Henry almost flying up the stairs. By the time I joined them I saw Henry had had the presence of mind to rush to the kitchen and grab a turkey baster from the kitchen drawer and shoved it down Monica’s throat and was now pumping air into her body. She responded, convulsing with each breath. I ran to my room got my makeup mirror and dialed my sister. Accustomed to emergencies she woke up quickly and started advising us. We held the mirror in front of Monica to see if she had any breath on her own. She did not. Henry heroically resumed emergency ventilation, but sadly to no avail. Monica passed away.

“Henry, I can’t believe how amazing you were. You were calm and really performed in a crisis.” I said completely impressed.

“Really. Henry, I can’t thank you enough for what you did. If anything was going to help that was. Lisa said it was probably a blood clot.” Mike relayed.

“But it didn’t save her.” Henry said quietly.

“But it made me feel as though we did everything we could.” Mike said putting a hand on Henry’s shoulder. Tearfully, Mike picked up his corpulent companion he tenderly called “Monica Morning Cat” and gently placed her in her blue cat carrier.

The next day, Henry dug a grave for Monica while Mike and I worked on the lights. Amy came home from Texas with Max and Andrew to find one of her glidies (sugar gliders) had died. One of the twins. Henry and I hadn’t known because they’d still been in their pouch when we fed them.  They don’t get up until about 9:00 PM. So we said goodbye to two friends and had two burials in our growing pet cemetery. Amy came by afterward explaining the horror of the death. It seems gliders can become cannibalistic and had skinned the poor thing. Amy was heavy-hearted having lost her third pet since living here.

 (Henry doesn't want Mike to have to dig Monica's grave)

 

 (Monica the cat was buried with her favorite towel - Mike got Monica about 8 years ago through my sister - her owner had died and she needed a home)

 

Hard work being the best medicine we all cleaned the barn thankful to sweep our troubles away laughing about the good times and funny stories.

 

November 12th With A Huff And A Puff

 (Dashingly handsome Cluck-Cluck and not so demure Silence Dogood snuggle up on a cold wet night - on top of the rabbit hutch- can we expect turkens?)
     

    It rained and rained and rained torrential frightening flood kind of rain and the wind howled and blew with more ferocity than the big bad wolf. Branches littered my lawn like pickup sticks. A tree went down by Amy’s place; two were down by the pond. I spoke to my neighbor, Dave, he told me the guy next to him lost seven trees. And more wind was predicted. We decided to wait on the cows until things settled down.

    Only they didn’t settle down. In a day fall had disappeared replaced by winter. Every leaf was blown from every tree revealing a stark beauty. Jeff canceled me for work because of the storm. We lost power for 14 hours and I still couldn’t get the blasted generator to work. Tom and I had changed the spark plugs, checked the fuse, jumped the battery, made sure there was gas and oil, but still nothing. Not knowing what to do I called an old friend. After all when you need help with a motor, call a German or if you can’t find one, an Austrian will do. Franz explained the ins and outs of the carburetor. Where to locate it, how to get to it  and what to spray in it. Then he described in great detail how the spray functioned in the thing.

 (Franz Neuwirth)

 (the mighty Centurion 15000- a  powerful beast - if it worked)
 

 (the air filter - with the carburetor to the right)

 (the top of the geni - Franz)
 
 

    “So you mean it’s like a can of hairspray? If you don’t use it all the time it gets clogged in the nozzle and you have to unplug the goop?”

    “Uh yeah, Neezer, something like that,” Franz replied indulging me.

    "Franz, what you fail to understand is I don't want to know anything about generators, carburetors or air filters."

    "Neezer, you just don't have that luxury. You live in the land of Hansel and Gretel."

    I acquiesced and did as he instructed, or so I thought. After my first attempt didn’t work, he went over the basics again.

    “So you spray the stuff and you don’t put the air filter back on until you’ve jumped the battery?”

    “Right, the evaporation rate of the starter fluid is too great. Just give it a good ‘psssst’ down the throat of the carb and it should fire.”

    “Should.” I had my doubts, but I was determined. When I tried, I had to get the tractor right up to the house lifting the bucket high in the air. This made me nervous, because if the hydraulics gave out and the bucket fell on top of me there was no one to take me to the hospital. Then again like almost everyone I know, I currently don’t have any health insurance so I’m not up to taking any chances. If I got hurt who’d make dinner or feed the animals? I put my fear aside and set to work when I heard a creak. The wheels of the tractor had started to slip slightly on the soaked ground and I panicked. The tractor was uphill from the propane tank. My mind raced at the catastrophe that was possible. I jumped on the tractor pulled it down the hill and turned it off.  Scared. I decided it was time to stop. I had to go pick up the boys from school anyway.

 (This summer I really meant to paint that generator shed to the left of the tractor
 

    “Franz, I couldn’t do it. I got scared.”

    “Can’t you ask some randy cowhand to come by and help you?” He asked in his slow sleepy Franzel voice.

    “I asked my brother-in-law, Chris, and he just laughed and said he didn’t even know what a carburetor looked like. He said his gender didn’t make him motor proficient. Well, he didn’t say it exactly like that, but you get the gist. Tom would help me, but he’s not here. You know maybe I can ask my new neighborly neighbor Dave to come by,” I mused.

    “You really should have someone there with you.” He said making me feel a little less cowardly. “If it doesn’t work next time, you might have to take the carburetor out and take it apart. Is it water cooled or air cooled.”

    “You’re kidding right?”  I asked and he laughed at me.

    “Uh no. It might just be too clogged. Or it still could be the spark plugs.” He suggested.

    “OK, OK, OK.”

    “Neezer? Do you have power now?”

    “Yes, it’s just that there’s been a lot of bad weather, we’re expecting more and it’s getting colder. Last year my pipes froze because my well pump doesn’t work when the power’s out. And my animal heat lamps will go out in the barn. It’s not really a problem yet, but I’m trying to get this handled before it is.”

    “Ahh planning ahead.”

    “Trying to.” I said hanging up.

    By the time we were ready to drive home the winds were picking up again so I told Nick I’d drive. He grumbled for a moment, but I think he was secretly relieved. He’s a good driver now and always prepared to compliment himself, but this was a little unnerving. We wound around state route 9 in silence and turned on to Mosquito Lake Road. We were almost home when we came upon a tree across the road resting on some kind of line. Was it a power line or phone? I didn’t know. We debated whether to turn back or go on.

 (To go or not to go? That is the question)
 

    “We have to feed the barn animals,” Nick said matter-of-factly.

    “With the bridge out, if we drive under it we might be trapped tomorrow. We might not be able to get out.” I explained.

    “And that’s a problem why?” Henry asked not wanting to go to school.

    “Yeah, I think we should take the chance. Going back means driving all the way back to Bellingham.” Nick added.

    “Nick maybe you and Henry should get out of the car while I drive under it. I think it’s safer.”

     “I’m not going out there. What if there’s another cougar? You kiddin’ me.”

    “Nicholas Lyle,Berger no cougar is going to come anywhere my van with the lights on and I have a horn.”

    “I am not going to be some kitty snack. I’m not going to lie. I’m afraid of the dark.”

    “Nick, I don’t want to take any chances. What if my van brushes one of the limbs and the tree comes down?”

    “I’ll take my chances.” Nick assured me in a tone that confirmed I wasn't getting him out of the van with out a crowbar. 

    “I’m doing what he’s doing.” Henry chimed in.

    In all honesty I didn’t know what the right answer was and having encountered four cougar in two years. The brown bear relocation project flashed through my head. A complete long shot, but who knows what evil lurks.

     I pulled up to the tree and punched it. I might own a van now, but it wasn’t always this way. There was a time when I would have thought a van a fate worse than sensible shoes and cotton panties. I went from my yellow CRX si to a sedan with a mean clutch when my mom had a breakdown I had strapped Henry’s car seat into two-seater. I inched forward and peeled out. Safe on the other side I started thinking about the morning. Amy, Andrew and little Max had a plane to catch to see her family for Thanksgiving.

    I called Puget Sound Energy and reported a downed tree on their line. Then I called Verizon and reported a downed tree on their line. I wasn’t taking any chances there was a tree down in our yard and the wind was picking up.

    “Yes, Ms. Miller we’ll be out to fix it. We promise to get there by uh… Tuesday.” A distracted woman from Verizon informed me.

    “Tuesday. Tuesday? Are you aware it is currently Thursday?” I asked incredulously.

    “Yes.”

    “Are you further aware we will be blocked in if the tree falls and it is not removed?”

    “Is there a phone number we can reach you at Ms. Miller?”

    “Not if the tree goes down.”

    “Oh right.” She said and I hung -up.

    I dialed my newly acquainted neighbor, Dave.

    “Dave, I hate to bother you, but I thought you should know, there is a tree hanging from a line blocking both of us from town. You might want to bring your chainsaw with you when you go to work. It might on the road by then.”

    “Thanks, I will.  The winds are terrifying. A really big pine tree went down roots and all by my house in the middle of the night. It smashed my 80-year-old chicken coop.” His voice was heavy and sad.

    “Oh that’s horrible.” I said shocked.

    “The dry summer, the endless rain and now the wind, it’s not a good combination. Every chicken I had died smashed into the ground. It’s funny I really miss them. I was attached you know?”

 (Dave's smashed chicken coop)

     “I do know. Do you think I should have the kids sleep downstairs? Or do you think I’m going too far. I don’t want to scare them.”

    “I don’t know you’re place is pretty in the clear except that front bedroom.”

    “That’s Henry’s, maybe I’ll have him sleep with me.” I thought out loud. “Well, see you soon. Say hello to Gnatalie and the boys.”

    “Thanks for the chainsaw tip. No one much cares what happens up here. If we get stranded we’re last on the list.” He pointed out.

    “Dead last.”  I agreed. I hung-up made a cup of Earl Grey added a splash of 2% and started researching how to clean a carburetor – just in case.

November 8th Git Along Little Dogies

 (a beaver sighting across the pasture and after closer investigation I located a dam! Not at the pond - but in our creek)

    When we woke up on Sunday morning, Henry couldn’t see outside. “It’s like a carwash out there.” Not our usual. Sure Washington is known for it’s rain and most people complain about it constantly to keep the tourists away, but truly we usually get a misty rain. Only tourists carry “dumbrellas” as Tom calls them. In fact, I’m not quite considered local wearing a hood as I do on occasion. I asked a customer at the Everybody Store if she shouldn’t put on her jacket to go to her car with the downpour we were having. She turned and smiled over her shoulder at me as she put me in my place. “I’m from Washington. It’s not like I expect to stay dry.”

    Now almost full-blown Washingtonians it was time to bring our cows home. Weather or not. Armed with determination, some lead ropes and a bucket of grain. The boys and I followed my neighbor Dave’s instructions to his house. We turned left on the logging road and proceeded straight. He’d opened the metal arm that normally blocks any misguided motorists from venturing deep into the forest.

    “Hasn’t it been at least a mile?” Nick wondered as he drove carefully down the gravel road.

    “Maybe we missed it?” Henry added. “Maybe we were supposed to turn back there where it forked.”

    “Nope, there’s the old dump truck he was talking about.”

    “Wow that is an old dump truck. And look at that old horse trailer,” Henry noted.

    “Doesn’t look like he likes visitors much,” Nick said taking heed of the signs.

 (the welcome marker)

 (On the logging road)

 (Private Property)

    We all looked at each other. He’d seemed like a nice guy on the phone, but here I was driving into the forest with two kids. I felt as though I might be embarking into some terrifying thriller. As we crept a long I tried convincing myself Jack Nicholson was not just around the bend. I swear if either boy had said, “Redrum” we would have been out of there.

    My breathing resumed when the cows came into view. I opened the window and yelled “Abe! Andy!” and they came running with that clinking, clanking sound. Smiles and excitement filled the car. Our cows loved us! Our cows missed us! Our cows were coming home!

 (Abe and Andy come a runnin')

    We hopped out of the car and introduced ourselves to the mule eyeing us. “His name is Pablo,” Dave said walking up. “He’s a troublemaker,” he added laughing.

    “What does he do?” Henry asked.

    “Well, I can’t keep him in with my cows, Peggy and Tucker because he chases them. He’ll run poor Peggy into a frenzy. He likes to stir things up.” Dave explained.

    “Will he hurt them?” Nick asked.

    “Actually, I think he just wants to play,” Dave said with a smile.

 (Pablo eyes us)

 (Pablo says hello)

 (Pablo is a water boy)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo in the creek)

 (Pablo examines a rock)

 (Pablo with Dave's house in the background)

 (my neighbor Dave)

    We all chatted a bit with rain dripping down our faces “How long have you lived here?” I asked.

    “Oh since the early seventies. I grew up in Bellingham.”

    “You don’t have internet do you?”

    “Not yet.”

    “Electricity?”

    “When I turn on the power switch.”

    “Heat?”

    “Wood. I do have a propane tank, but I try not to use it.”

    “Running water?”

    “The best water ever, from the creek.”

    “Television?” I asked doubtfully.

    “I have that! When I turn on the power and I am thinkin’ about getting the Internet. I guess you have it?”

    “I’m from Los Angeles,” was all I said and all I needed to say. I felt very techie. “And I thought my home was quiet, all you hear out here is the forest I’ll bet.”

    “And my chickens.” He pointed toward the house where they were out in the rain pecking at the grass.

    “Gnatalie sure has played a lot with Peggy’s calf, Tucker,” Dave said. “I’m sure he’s going to miss her and Peggy, she’s a natural mother. She loved having all the company. These fellas have been a real kick. That one there he moos the minute he sees me coming.” Dave said wistfully.

 (Nick petting Gnat)

 (Abe, Gnatalie and Abe)

 (Pretty Peggy)

 (baby Tucker)

 (the herd)

    “That’s Abe he’s a chatty one.”

    “I’ll say he’s chatty.” Dave grinned.

    Henry not wanting to waste any time or an opportunity, he had proceeded walking toward Mosquito Lake Road with our three cows behind him. Gnatalie was our “Norman”.

    Just as Gnatalie left the far point of the pasture fence, she realized she was being lured away from her precious surrogate mama, Peggy, and her beloved playmate, Tucker. She turned back at full tilt. She arrived back at the gate planting herself in the mud. It was apparent there was going to be no moving her today. She started mooing for Peggy who mooed back.

 (Gnatalie on the run)

    As I watched I couldn’t help but feel sad. She’d much rather be with these two than our boys. It was no surprise, but I felt badly for her. “We’ve been struggling whether or not to get Gnatalie’s grandmother and her new calf. I guess the decision’s made.” I said.

    “Well, she’s no trouble at all. Why don’t you just leave her here until you get them?” Dave suggested in a might neighborly way.

    “That’s really kind of you. It makes me sad she’d rather be here than with our two cows, but I’ve known all along they really didn’t accept her.”

    Dave put Gnatalie back in with her new family. Henry had gotten quite a ways with the boys by now so I bid Dave good-bye and hurried to catch up with him. Nick brought up the rear in the van.

 (Peggy, Gnatalie and Tucker)

 (Henry, Abe and Andy)

(Henry and the boys)

 (Andy on the way home stopping for a bit of grain- Nick driving the van)

 (Abe and the van)

    Here we were on a cattle drive with 255 horses. OK so we had the van, a girl can dream. I imagined Roy Rogers warbling a campfire tune. Henry walked on sans harmonica giving the boys little tastes of grain along the way. It was going almost too easily until we hit the pipeline trail; which was the route they took from our house to Dave’s. Abe and Andy stopped and almost pointed as if we were too stupid to know the way home. I might have gone that way, but Nick was driving the van and if we went that way he’d have to drive on Mosquito Lake Road by himself.

 (Abe and Andy - point to the pipeline trail where the silver gate is-)

     I considered that if Henry and I had any trouble Nick wouldn’t be with us and wouldn’t know what was going on. I decided everyone should stay together. The cattle complied and we all went on. I broke into a lame version of “Home on the Range”, imagining I was Mrs. Barkley. I figured Henry for Heath and Nick seemed the well, to be Nick.  We were walking and singing until we got to the road. It was then I could hear my sister’s words in the back of my head as soon as the cows spooked. “Cows don’t like a change in footing, that’s why cattle guards work.” I was still surprised because they’d been on the road plenty of times and had no problem. Of course, that was  by our house, but I guess for whatever reason in their cagey cow minds this was different. Very different.

    Suddenly it was cows gone wild. A cattle drive gone berserk. They ran up and down, racing in between trees, up the hill down the hill and then they were gone. Gone. Henry and I ran into the forest, and for a while we could hear them but we couldn’t see no longer see them. Suddenly, I realized we were in the middle of the forest without a weapon of any kind. We walked to the road and motioned for Nick to join us in the car. Only Nick didn’t see us because he was too busy listening to his ipod to notice. We trudged back and told him to drive back toward Dave’s.

    “You really think you’re going to find them?” Nick was in complete disbelief.

    “What choice do we have? I don’t want them gone for good. I’m worried. Thank goodness they have the bell.” I told him. “They’re lost in the forest. They could break a leg.”

    “At least Gnatalie’s not with them.” Nick said kindly.

    “Yeah, that would be a lot worse.”

    We drove back with our windows down listening for the bells. I got out and started looking at one of the forks. I figured I might see their tracks and determine if they’d been this way. I was scanning the mud just as a small car pulled up and rolled its window down.

    “YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN” the woman shouted unnecessarily.

    “Uh, yeah.” Nick answered quietly looking at her as if she was insane.

    “THEY”RE UP THE NEXT LOGGIN’ ROAD!” She hollered again and sped off.

    I walked back to the van and we continued looking for our little lost cows. We took the logging road and ended up in a creepy deserted place filled with strange little statues. “Redrum” kept running through my mind. “Uhh, let’s go back to Dave’s,” I told Nick.

    “Good idea.” He agreed readily. “This place is hella trippin.’”

    “What are those anyway? Goats?” Henry asked hesitantly and “Who put them there.”

 (strange statues)

    “And why?” Nick asked. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” Nick started and Henry joined in. “ARE YOU LOOKIN’ FOR THE OXEN?” They screamed at the top of their lungs over and over as if this was the funniest thing they’d ever heard, until they broke into peels of laughter successfully breaking the strange little statue tension.

    By the time we got back to Dave’s, Abe and Andy were in the pasture calmly grazing on a bale of hay. We got out of the car and were chastising them when Dave walked up.

    “They found their way back and now that they’ve eaten, I don’t think there’s much chance of them going today.” He said. 

    “No I don’t’ either they got way too freaked out. We were almost home, only a tenth of a mile to the gate when wham. It was a cattle drive circus.”

    “Well, they can all stay here until we figure out what to do next. Anyway maybe we should try again in better weather.” He said brightly.

    “I can bring you some hay over.” I offered.

    “Naaa, I’m ok. Go home, get warm.” He said. “I’ll call a friend and see if we can borrow his trailer next week.”

    I wondered if he was smirking at the city slickers. No matter, I felt more inept than Billy Crystal at the moment.

 (Abe and Andy with their hay)
 
 

 

November 4th Little Runaway

 (fall slips into winter on highway 9)

    After a summer of long languid dusty dry evenings, it’s time to pay the piper. We wake up in the dark; we drive home in the dark and the rain. Nick is no longer confused as to why vampires are said to exist peacefully in Washington. He’s taking Vitamin D now to battle his constant desire to cuddle up in his Snuggie™ and go to sleep at 7:30.

    The endless rain and the resulting mud had gotten so miserable I let the cows out of the pasture. I was worried Gnatalie wasn’t eating because her little legs were too short to walk up to the hay feeder. The weight of the bigger boys churned the earth so deeply I was afraid she might get stuck or break a leg in the mud, so I let them roam around. I figured at this point Gnatalie was sufficiently part of the herd and the boys would take care of her. 

 (Miracle and Edward take a turn at the cows round bale feeder)

 (Gnatalie hears her name and comes a runnin')

 (Gnatilie on the way)

 (Gnatalie - giving me memories of Lefty and Pancho - but she doesn't even come up to my side mirrors)

 (On the other hand -Pancho a Milking Shorthorn- back in the day- his back obscured the roof line of my van)

    They seemed to really enjoy their renewed freedom, drinking from the pond and trotting around the property. One moment they’d be by the creek eating peacefully and the next they’d be across the pasture for no apparent reason. A few nights ago the boys and I came home and had just finished putting the barn animals to away and when we noticed there in the dark not more than a few yards away were Abe, Andy and Gnatalie. They’d bed down in the Kubota barn. Three enormous mammals were all lying there and we none of us had seen them nor felt their presence.

“What if they’d been cougar? We’d be dead. Dead I tell you. Ripped to shreds! What THE…” Nick started.

 (Andy, Gnatalie and Abe)

    “Nicky is right they are ambush predators.” Henry interjected. I too was amazed we could have missed animals their size even in the darkness. It was unnerving, but their quiet gentle presence made me think of the serenity of the Nativity. Entranced I walked over and couldn’t resist joining them. Henry, Nick and I chatted with them, pet and snuggled them. It was a magical kind of moment, and then we bid them goodnight and went in the house.

 (Gnatalie gets a scratch)

 (Gnatalie and me)

 (Gnatalie, Denise and Abe)

 (Gnatalie looks at Nick while she gets a little snuggle)


    The next few days, they bed down by the house. They seemed to be enjoying the company of the other animals and our comings and goings. We looked forward to seeing them, until the night the pesky equine, Edward and Miracle happened in like the mafia. They came in noses down pushing our docile friends aside, intent on taking over the territory. Gentle souls, Abe, Andy and Gnatalie gave up their beds and moved back down to the pasture bells clanging as they went.

     Tonight, when we got home, Henry hopped out of the car to open the gate and found a note thumbtacked to the latch.

    Scrawled in blue cursive was “I think I have your cattle at my house. I am just on the other side of the pipeline rd. from you. Call me – Dave”.

    “Someone has our cows?” I blurted to the boys.

    “What? They’re gone?” Nick said shocked.

    “Well, I don’t know, I mean I saw them the other day, but we leave in the dark and then we get home in the dark, I guess they could be.” I reasoned.

    “The bells, listen for the bells,” Henry said sensibly. We rolled down the windows, but all we heard was the wind blowing the leaves off the trees in the forest.

    “Have you ever noticed the wind in the trees sounds like a rushing river?” Henry asked.

    “I have noticed that and at times. A few times I’ve really thought it was the sound of a river. It’s kind of amazing. I don’t hear any bells. Do you? I think they really might be gone.”

    “What the hell. The cows ran away from home? Gnatalie! Where’s little Gnatalie?” Nick worried.

    “She’s probably with them they’re a herd now,” Henry assured him.

    My stomach churned as I dialed my neighbor Dave’s number. “Hello? My name’s Denise and I understand you might have my cows?”

    “Yeah that’s right. I think they’re yours. Two big guys and a little one?”

    “That’s them!”

    “I used to drive past your place everyday on my way to town before the bridge closed so I was pretty sure they were yours. One of them, the one with the bell.”

    “That’s Andy.”

    “Well, Andy broke into my pasture last night. I heard the bell. It’s a good thing you have the bell because I heard it and wondered what the heck it was. I went outside with my flashlight and saw him. He’d broken the fence to get in my pasture to be with my cow and her calf. The other two were just sitting on my lawn. I’ve never seen such friendly cows in my life. They just like to be pet and that little one. I just want to put her in my pocket.” He said with a laugh.

    “That’s them alright. I’m so sorry about your fence.” I said feeling terrible and wondering how I was going to pay for Andy’s escapades.

    “Oh that’s ok I fixed it. Now how you’re going to get them back I don’t know.”

    “Well, my biggest problem is when. I think I can get them home, but I just can’t go over and do it in the dark and I have to work.”

    “That’s ok I can keep them here and we can work it out this weekend.”

    “Really? That’s so nice of you. I can bring some hay by.”

    “Nahh, that’s ok I’ve got plenty of hay and I like having them around. The little one is playing with the calf, Tucker.”

    Well, thank you. I’ll give you a call and come by on Saturday morning then. I don’t know exactly where you are. I’ve never seen your house.”

    “That’s because I’m a mile back in the forest. It’s not hard to find, but I’ll better direct you Saturday. Otherwise you’ll end up at my brother-in-law’s place.”  As we hung-up I couldn’t help but chuckle.

    The phone rang, “What’s going on?” Tom asked expecting what I don’t know, but I assure you he did not expect.

    “Gnatalie and the boys ran away from home and are having a sleepover.”